The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, April 1844

As to my object in keeping them, there were various rumors afloat about town, in the utterance of which, libellous as some of them were, Mrs. – was perhaps the loudest and most malicious; she having hinted, among other scandalous conjectures, that the soup from alligator-tail being very palatable and delicate, a speculation was afoot contemplating the supply of the northern market with that article. About this time, also, some of her lizards were missing, and thought to have found their way to the tub; but all surmises were soon cut short by the first cold night of that winter, (one of them in February,) which chilled the water so that the ‘pets’ next morning were quite stiff, and apparently dead. By careful nursing, however, two of them were thoroughly revived, and made to articulate distinctly; but having no thought of a second cold night in the same winter, the waters closed over them again, a thin ice shut out the air, (they had not presence of mind, I suspect, to come to the surface,) and on the morning of the second day they were quite gone. And now, in closing this history, I do not want to be uncharitable, but I suspect Mrs. – was privately rejoiced at their death; indeed, the whole community, otherwise very sensible and not devoid of sentiment, seemed to regret the circumstance much less than would have been expected.

It will be seen, Mr. Editor, from this account of the alligator, that I can say nothing as to what habits he may form in after-life; what evil he may learn, what original sins he may develope and mature; what temptations his power and bloody instincts may present to him; what evil resorts he may be driven to, in an ungrateful world, when he has become case-hardened and impenetrable to outward impressions; or, in short, what contempt he may acquire for the fiddlers and cabbage-leaves of his early days. And what he may do in those vast lagoons where he is undoubtedly master, or in the black depths of the St. Johns, where the water hides the blood he may shed, and the long moss screens him from the tiger; what orgies he may celebrate, what abominations he may practice, when there is none to call him to account; all this I can only conjecture; but I conjecture on the charitable side. In the upper waters of the St. Johns I have seen them in their death-throes; huge animals, at least fifteen feet long; seen them in scores at a time, some swimming about, some tumbling in clumsily, some sprawled on shore, apparently asleep, and some raising their black claws as if to call down vengeance upon us, gnashing their teeth, and lashing the water in their death-agony; but the howlings and smothered thunder that others tell of, came not to my ears; and the exhibition, so furious to others, was to me only the involuntary muscular action of pain and dissolution. Extravagant stories are told of their great strength and tenacity of life, and wonderful exploits are recounted by the great mass who have lived since Agamemnon. While staying over night, not in Egypt, but at the plantation of Doctor W–, a short time before his place was despoiled by the Indians, he related an encounter, which though not so remarkable, is undoubtedly true to the letter.

The doctor in his earlier days had been in some sharp battles against Napoleon, having been a staff-officer to one of the smaller kings of Europe; and although an exceedingly kind and benevolent man, his skirmishing faculties were still lively and unimpaired. In this fight, which came off at Indian River, he of course commanded the engagement, but as it proved, not with his usual success. The alligator, one of enormous size, was so far from the river when discovered, that the doctor had time to call in his gang of men, and make a general attack. Seizing an axe in one hand, and shouting ‘Charge!’ to his men, all who could get a footing mounted the back of the animal, with a view to stay proceedings till the doctor could despatch him; but to their surprise, the old fellow walked off with his burden with apparent ease. The doctor then waived off his men, and mounting himself, drove the bit of the axe through his hide, probably at the fore-shoulder; but from wrenching, or some other cause, it was found impossible to remove it. The doctor hinted that the heart clasped the bit by strong muscular exertion, with a view to his own private use; but this being speculative merely, I only mention the fact. As he was now nearing the water rapidly, a rope was slipped round the butt of the helm, a quick turn made around a stiff sapling on the bank of the river, and all hands made fast to the rope. At this moment, just as they were all braced, the alligator made his plunge into the water, and the sapling, I don’t remember how large, very large however, came up by the roots, and they all went to the bottom together! Some of the negroes, however, came back.

Another Doctor W–, who, unlike his venerated namesake, still lives to relate the marvels of a life unusually varied, has a remarkable store of incidents, encounters, and other matters, quite alligatorical. The doctor will forgive me, if I mistake, but I think he told me that the monsters in the neighborhood of his plantation had in several instances stolen his butcher-knives and chopping instruments; a fact which he made quite certain, by seeing them use the knives in a family way on the other side of the lagoon; and that on one occasion, he was quite astounded at seeing a large alligator making tracks for the water on three legs, with a pitch-fork and crow-bar in his jaws, and a hand-saw erect and glittering from his right arm! Upon these last, however, I do not pronounce.

And now to sum up my opinion of the animal. I believe that notwithstanding these astounding tales, he is rather peaceful and well-disposed, when properly trained, but hath very strangely fixed upon him an idea, not entirely original with him, that the world owes him a living; that he makes drafts that way to an advanced age; that he is non-committal, except upon such matters as he can commit to his private keeping; that his stomach in that respect has great capacity; that he is not over-nice in his diet; is plain and unassuming; is not puffed up, seeing that his hide will not much admit of it; and if he resemble himself to a log adrift, he considereth not what foolish creatures may alight upon his back, or swim within his jaws; he barks no invitation, nor does he flourish with his tail to excite their curiosity; and if they happen in his way when he has done yawning, it is their business, not his.

Lastly, what do I say to the prevalent notion that the waters of the St. Johns, which resemble brandy and water, half-and-half, are colored by the blood of his victims? Answer—it is not so. I have drank of those waters for weeks together (stopping occasionally) and even deepened the color, in a manner peculiar to those who travel in those parts, without feeling half as sanguinary as I do at this moment, from the bare thought of that foul and malicious slander.

These are the matters of faith; the facts, I give you are but two, and perhaps only true of his younger days; that he eateth fiddlers in secret, and dies in a temperature of twenty-six Fahrenheit.

AN EPITAPH

This shell of stone within it keepethOne who died not, but sleepeth;And in her quiet slumber seemethAs if of heaven alone she dreameth.Her form it was so fair in seeming,Her eyes so heavenly in their beaming,So pure her heart in every feeling,So high her mind in each revealing,A band of angels thought that sheWas one of their bright company;And on some homeward errand driven,Hurried her too away to Heaven.

THE CHURCH BELL

IThat old church bell is dear to me,When from its ancient towerIts silvery tones sound solemnly,To tell the service-hour;It seems as if it almost spokeThe words of trustful prayer,And promised to the spirit brokeWith sin, a pardon there.III love it when it sadly tollsThe knell of life departed,And gently murmurs sympathyTo mourners broken-hearted;It whispers of a spirit passedFrom doubt and pain and care,And tells of heaven, and bids them hopeTo meet the lost one there.IIII love it when its merry pealWelcomes the coming day,And rouses me from peaceful sleepMy gratitude to pay;It bids me pray for strength to doMy daily duty given;To hope that each successive mornMay find me nearer heaven.VIThen dear is that old bell to me,And dear its merry peal;For ’tis a voice of sympathyWith human woe and weal;Whether my heart with sadness sink,Or light with pleasure dance,It speaks to me in every toneOf Life’s significance.J. O. W.

THE QUOD CORRESPONDENCE

Harry Harson

CHAPTER XXIV

Harry Harson strode into his own house, with his jolly face brimful of cheerfulness. It shone out of his eyes; out of the corners of his half-closed mouth; and even out of his full, round double chin. Every part of him seemed glowing with it; and no sooner had he got in his parlor, than he flung his hat on the table; snapped his fingers over his head in perfect ecstacy; made the hazardous experiment of a slow pirouette around the table, and concluded his performances by making two or three passes with his cane at the nose of Spite, who had been watching his conduct with an air of extreme surprise, not unmingled with disapprobation. The attack upon himself was carrying the joke too far; and after several ineffectual attempts to avoid the point of the cane, with a discontented grumble, between a whine and a growl, he retreated under an old side-board, sadly troubled with misgivings as to the state of his master’s intellect.

‘Ha, ha! old pup! you don’t understand the science of fence; but don’t take it hard. I’ve got a drop of comfort in store for you; for we’re to have a blow-out, Spite—a real, regular, out-and-out blow-out—ha! ha! And you shall be under the table during the whole of it,’ exclaimed Harson, rubbing his hands together, and chuckling with indescribable glee. ‘I’ll speak about it at once.’ He opened the door and bawled out, in a voice that made the old house shake: ‘Hallo! there, Martha, Martha, come here, quick!’

A frantic rush across the kitchen was heard, succeeded by a violent clatter of slip-shod shoes through the entry; for Martha, since the late burglary, being haunted in idea by shabby looking gentlemen with pistols in their pockets, and dark lanterns under their arms, even in broad daylight, was on the look-out for emergencies, and had every thing ready for speedy egress to the street, either through the front door or the cellar window; and the tone of Harson’s voice being that of a man in extremity, had such an effect upon her, that when she reached the door, she could only gasp out:

‘Lor’ me! is they here ag’in?’

‘Who?’ demanded Harson, not a little surprised at the pale face of his housekeeper.

‘The robbers.’

‘Poh, poh, nonsense!’ replied he, perhaps not a little annoyed by the reflection that his own manner had contributed to her mistake. ‘There are no greater thieves here than our two selves. Perhaps I did speak rather loud; but I was not thinking of what I was about. I shall have some friends to dine with me to-morrow, and you must get things ready for them. There may be six, or eight, or a dozen; damme! I don’t know how many; but have enough for twenty; d’ye hear?’

Martha curtseyed, at the same time intimating in a faint tone, that she did hear; for she had not entirely recovered from the embarrassment attendant on the precipitancy of her advent into his presence.

‘And hark ye!’ continued Harson, warming as he went on; ‘Frank’s the very devil and all; we’ll tap the cask in the corner of the cellar. It’s prime stuff, which I’ve kept for some great occasion; and this is a glorious one. And there’s the fat saddle of mutton, hanging in the store room: we’ll have that. It’ll be the very thing for the half-starved boy we’ve found; and bring down a bottle or two of the red-seal wine; that of 1812. It’ll wake up old Dick Holmes, and make him ten years younger. There’s no fear of giving him the gout. Ha, ha! Dick Holmes with the gout! I’d like to see that!’ exclaimed he, bursting out into a broad laugh at the bare idea of such a catastrophe. ‘Well, well,’ added he, after a minute’s consideration, ‘you may go, Martha. Upon the whole, I think I’ll get the things myself, and go to market too. There, that’s all.’

Harson’s spirits however were too exuberant to permit him to remain quiet; for after he had returned to the room, drawn a chair to the fire, thrown on a few sticks of wood, seated himself with a foot on each andiron, folded his hands complacently over his abdomen, and fixed his eyes upon the clock, as if it were a settled thing that he was to retain this attitude for at least an hour, or perhaps a year, he suddenly started up, thrust his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and walked up and down the room, whistling with all his might; but even by whistling, he was unable to work off his surplus of buoyancy. It was evidently gaining ground upon him, do what he would. He had reached his present state by rapid stages. From a feeling of complacency he had passed to one of high satisfaction; from that to one of mirthfulness; thence he advanced rapidly to one of joviality; and he was now fast verging upon one of uproariousness. Something must be done! Excessive steam bursts a boiler; why should not a similar surplus of delight burst a man? He wouldn’t risk it! He must find some vent for it. Ha! ha! It just occurred to him that the widow hadn’t heard the news. He clapped on his hat, seized his cane, and sallied out into the street, in his haste shutting in Spite, who had started to follow him, and who yelped mournfully for an hour afterward, to the great edification of a thin maiden lady, who resided next door, and was indulging herself with a nervous head-ache.

There must have been something in the expression of Harson’s face which bore the stamp of his feelings; for as he trudged along, with a free independent air, striding as lustily as if only twenty instead of sixty years had passed over his head, and as if every sinew were as well strung, and every muscle as firm as ever; not a few turned to take a second look at his hearty, honest face; for such an one was not often met with; and as they did so, observed: ‘There goes a jolly old cock.’

Rap! rap! rap! went the head of his cane against the door of Mrs. Chowles’s blinking old house; but he was too much at home to think of waiting for a reply, and had gone through the ceremony only for the purpose of removing from his entrance all appearance of being underhanded or surreptitious; for no sooner had he knocked with one hand, than with the other he raised the latch and walked without hesitation toward the widow’s little parlor.

‘Ah, ha! my visit will be a surprise to her!’ thought he, as he took the knob of the door in his hand. He was a true prophet. A faint scream escaped the lady, for she was opening the door to come out at the very moment he was doing the same to enter; and as the movements of both were rapid, the lady precipitated herself into his arms, which in a most unexpected manner closed about her, while three hearty smacks were deposited on her forehead before she well knew where she was.

‘Mr. Harson!’ exclaimed she, extricating herself, though without any appearance of anger; ‘is it you?’

‘By Jove, I believe it is!’ replied Harson. ‘If it isn’t, it’s some gay fellow of twenty or thereabout, for I haven’t been so young for thirty years as I am to-day.’

Mrs. Chowles saw from his manner, and knew from the unusual hour of his visit, that there was something on his mind which he had come to communicate; and as she was not of that class who take pleasure in keeping others in suspense, especially when she was liable to be a fellow-sufferer, she drew an easy chair to the fire, and taking a seat in another, said: ‘Sit down, Harry. Now, what is it? what ails you?’

‘What ails me?’ exclaimed her visitor, turning his round joyous countenance to her; ‘look at me. Don’t you see what a boy I’ve grown; how the wrinkles have gone from my cheeks, and how clear and bright my eye is! Look at me, from top to toe. See how jolly I am, and hear how loud and lusty my laugh is: Ha! ha! ha!’

The lady did look at him; and did observe all the peculiarities to which he called her attention; and did listen to his loud ringing laugh; and then, not knowing what to make of him, drew away.

‘Aha! widow, you’re frightened at finding yourself alone with such a gay fellow!’ said he, laughing still more merrily. ‘Well, well, don’t be alarmed, for I’m not in the least dangerous; and to tell the truth, I am so overjoyed to-day that I may be indulged in a little foolery. But I’ll keep you no longer in suspense. You recollect little Annie, the little child who fled to my house for protection?’

‘Yes; well?’

‘And you remember too, how often I told you that that poor starved, cast-off little thing looked to me like one born for a better destiny, and like one who had seen brighter times; and how often you ridiculed me, when I spoke of the faint recollections which still flitted through her mind of sunnier hours; and how you said that they were merely dreams, and that I was almost as great a child as she was, to attach any weight to them; though you admitted—I’ll give you credit for that—you did admit that she was a beautiful, good little thing, and worthy to belong to the best in the land. And when I said that Providence never would have sent such a frail being as that into the world as a beggar’s brat, you told me, on the contrary, that He might have cast the lot of that child, frail, feeble, sickly as she was, amid the very outcasts of the earth for wise purposes, which we never could fathom; and that I had no right to reason in that way on the subject, or to comment on His doings. And there, widow,’ added he solemnly, ‘you were right, and I was very wrong. But I was correct in my surmises as to the child. She was born for a brighter destiny, even than my humble roof; although,’ added he, his voice somewhat choked, ‘she’ll never be where they’ll love her more. But it’s all right, and she must go; for her parents are discovered. They are of the best in the land; she is not a beggar’s brat. Her brother too, is found; a miserably, thin hollow-eyed fellow; but we’ll put flesh on him. This is not all,’ added he, ‘every body seems in luck to-day. Old Jacob Rhoneland has escaped scathless out of Rust’s clutches. Rust himself is on his way to the devil post-haste, and there is nothing left to be done but to heal the breach between Jacob and Ned. This matter settled, I hope to see Kate’s cheeks once more plump and round and rosy. I hope not only to see them, but to kiss them too. I’m not too old to fancy such things, I can tell you; and now, widow, hadn’t I a right to be a little boisterous? Ah! I see that you think me excusable; but bring me a pipe, and I’ll give you all the particulars over that. I’m a little thirsty, too; for I’ve already told a long story, and have yet a longer one to tell.’

The pipe was produced; the small three-legged table was placed at his side, to support his elbow; and Harson, having carefully lighted his pipe, suffered the smoke to eddy about his nose, while he arranged his ideas, and cleared his throat; and then he entered into a full and faithful detail of the proceedings which had been taken to unmask the villany of Rust; and the various steps and precautions which had finally led to success.

It was a pleasant sight to see two such persons as Harson and his crony, both in the autumn of life, but with the charities of the heart yet green and unwithered, talking and gossipping together, with eyes bright and beaming with mutual admiration; each fully aware of the foibles of the other, but carefully indulgent to them; for each knew that the heart of the other was an odd casket, encasing a gem of the noblest kind, from which radiated love, charity, and benevolence to man. Oh! Harry, Harry! how joyously and yet mildly you looked into that widow’s dark liquid eyes; and how gently and confidingly she returned that look! What a risk you both ran! Had you and she been but a few years younger, had either of you cherished a whit less tenderly the memory of those who had once been all in all to you, and whose forms were slumbering under the green sod, that widow might have been a wife, and Harry Harson no longer a stout, sturdy old bachelor; for it cannot be denied, that he did become a little animated as he proceeded; and that he did take the widow’s hand in his, and did squeeze it, perhaps with a little too much freedom, and did look into her eyes, as if he loved her with his whole soul and body into the bargain; nor can it be denied that she was pleased with these tokens of esteem, or love, or friendship, or whatever else she might have thought them; for she did not withdraw her hand, and she smiled when he smiled; and there certainly was a strong sympathy apparent in their looks; and even when in the fervor of his feelings he held his pipe between his teeth to free the hand which held it, and deliberately squeezed both of her hands in his, still she did not appear embarrassed, nor vexed; and when he had released it, quietly went on with her sewing, as composedly as if what he had just done was quite usual, and a matter of course.

‘And now, Mrs. Chowles,’ said Harson, as he concluded his narrative; ‘upon the strength of our success we are to have a jollification to-morrow at my house; and we’ll have Dick Holmes there, and Kate, and Ned Somers, and Kate’s father. He must make up with Ned then, if not before. He knows he was wrong, and he must give up.’

‘But will he?’ inquired the widow, anxiously. ‘You know Jacob’s a wrong-headed old man, in some things. Will he?’

‘Wont he?’ ejaculated Harson, with a peculiar wink and nod of satisfaction, as if he and himself were on excellent terms, and understood what they were about perfectly well. ‘I tell you what it is,’ added he, in a more grave tone; ‘Jacob has had his own way, or rather Michael Rust’s way, in this matter, too long. He shall have it no longer. He shall not break his child’s heart. I will not permit it.’ He took his pipe from his mouth, and slapped his knee emphatically. ‘Have you observed no change in the girl, since then? If you have not, I have. She is still the same devoted, affectionate child to that warped old man that she always was; but look at her face and form, and listen to her voice. She was once the gayest, merriest little creature that ever lived. It threw sunshine into one’s heart only to look at her; and when she spoke, did you ever hear a bird whose voice was half so joyous? Poor thing! when she laughs now, it makes my heart ache. It’s like the smile of one dying, when he is trying to whisper hope to those who are weeping over his death-bed. God bless her! and how should it be otherwise? But no matter; the worst is past. And now,’ said he, ‘I must be gone. I came here to tell you the story, and to ask you to dine with us; and between you and me, perhaps you had better come early in the day, and keep an eye over Martha; for the idea of a dinner party has quite frightened her; and there are so many little things to be done, which I know nothing about, and which you understand, and without which we should have every thing helter-skelter, that you must come, or I’ll never forgive you.’ Harry made this last menace with so fierce an air, and his mouth pursed up in so ferocious a manner, although his eyes were dancing with fun, that the lady consented at once.

‘It’s well for you that you did,’ said Harson, rising and putting on his hat; ‘if you hadn’t, I don’t know what I should have done; but it would have been something dreadful. I’m a terrible fellow when fairly roused.’ Then shaking the lady’s hand, as if he intended to dislocate her shoulders, he put his cane under his arm and went out.

‘Ha! ha! old Jacob! you and I must have a tussle. Ha! ha!’ exclaimed he, still carrying his cane under his arm, and his hands under his coat tails, ‘you must hear a little of what I think. A few words of wholesome advice will do you no harm, and will rub off the rust that old age has fastened upon you.’

With this hostile resolution upon his tongue, the old man made the best of his way to Rhoneland’s house. Jacob was there, dozing in his chair, with his white locks hanging loosely over his shoulders; and Kate was sitting at his side engaged in sewing. She was paler than usual; and there was a nervous restlessness in her manner, which did not escape the quick glance of Harson. He thought too that she seemed somewhat thinner than she was wont to be. It might be mere suspicion, but still he thought so.